


Captain Midford's Fiancé

by DesperatelyObsessional



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: AKA, Alternate Universe, Angst with a Happy Ending, But also, Captain Elizabeth Midford of the Queen's Knights, Ciel the badass, Ciel the slim and sickly, Elizabeth the badass, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, He's a multi-tasker, Human Sebastian, Lol Idk where he goes after a while?, Paula's a demon, Role Reversal, sorry - Freeform, what else do I say?, yeah - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-25
Updated: 2018-06-11
Packaged: 2019-05-13 14:01:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14750235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DesperatelyObsessional/pseuds/DesperatelyObsessional
Summary: Role ReversalCaptain Elizabeth Midford was a ruthless commander of the Queen's Knights, sweeping across battlefields with her token eye patch and odd maid, Paula.Lord Ciel Phantomhive was a sickly thing, a businessman whose defining trait was his engagement to the Marchioness Midford.---Or, Ciel is secretly the Queen's Guard dog, and Elizabeth's about to get shook.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A few notes:  
> Fuck Real!Ciel, the little bitch doesn’t exist in this universe.  
> Elizabeth and Ciel are a tad older cuz I’m sorry but a 12-year-old isn’t going to be commanding a legion of knights okay.  
> Ciel’s tragic backstory didn’t really happen in this universe, so his parents be hella alive in this.

A group of ladies fluttered their fans, gossiping under their breath as they watched the crowd mingle amongst themselves.

“That’s the Earl Phantomhive’s son isn’t it?” one of the ladies asked, subtly pointing her fan.

Five pairs of eyes zeroed in on the slim young man in extravagant clothes who just walked entered the room. He was only thirteen, with an almost too-slim frame, and nearly two feet shorter than every man in the room, but there was no denying he’d be a handsome man one day very soon. What with his shiny blue-black hair, noble features, and confident, straight posture, he already had a leg up on the full-grown men in attendance.

 “My, an Earl? Perhaps he could be a match for my little Katherine,” Countess Susana suggested, taking in the young man’s expensive clothes.

A woman scoffed, “Please. That scrawny little thing? He’s sickly. Not to mention, he runs a _toy company_ , of all things- hardly someone mature enough to support a family.”

Marchioness Brickmore scoffed, “Regardless, your daughter doesn’t have a chance. He’s been betrothed since he was six.”

“To whom? I’m sure my Katherine is far lovely and a far more suitable match,” Countess Susana retorted, flapping her fan loudly in offense.

Raising a taunting eyebrow, Marchioness Brickmore scoffed, “It’s not about your daughter, but his betrothed, the Captain of the Queen’s Knights? Captain Midford _adores_ the Lord Phantomhive, and I’m willing to bet she’d sooner kill your niece than allow him to break the engagement.”

Visibly paling, Countess Susana hid her face behind her fan, mumbling something about punch before walking away.

-

It was true.

His fiancée’s reputation circled around him like a cloying perfume, following him wherever he went. It didn’t matter whether it was a business meeting or a social gathering: people watched him from a distance, gave him every courtesy, and handled him in the most delicate of ways.

Elizabeth Midford.

Captain of the Queen’s Knights.

She’d taken up her father’s mantle after her family had died in a tragic accident on the battlefield in Southeast Asia when she was eleven. She, herself, had been a prisoner of war for over a month, before she managed to escape onto a ship headed back for England, returning with an odd maid and an eyepatch.

Within a few months, she’d become the most skilled, the most intelligent, the most _ruthless_ Captain to have ever graced the position.

And that woman was his fiancé.

Like always, Ciel could hear her name whispered in the corners of the banquet hall, notice gossiping ladies’ pale faces, feel her invisible protection wrapped around him like a suit of armor.

It was a bit more obvious today, considering Elizabeth was supposed to have been _attending_ this particular dinner party, though it was clear she was running late.

Perhaps he should have let his parents join him, at least that way, he wouldn’t be stuck staring at a wall and making conversation with his _butler_ for thirty minutes. Not to mention, his father was much better at socializing than he was anyways.

The young Earl turned towards his butler, sighing, practically overcome with boredom. “Is there _anyone_ of importance to talk to?”

Sebastian looked around the room, sharp grey eyes scanning the crowd of nobles, businessmen, and foreigners. “There’s John Gatlin, the current leader in the monorail industry in France. Or the Duchess Wimbly, I believe she’s a friend of your mother’s.”

Ciel sighed.

_So either he’d talk to a French businessman, a despicable breed from an even more despicable nation, or a known family friend._

The decision was very easy.

“Gatlin. Where is he?” Ciel asked, lightly tapping his cane against the floor, as he allowed his butler to lead him towards the man.

Sebastian effortlessly circled them around groups of chatting persons, purposefully giving the dancing couples a large berth, before stopping in front of a pair of wealthy businessmen.

They didn’t notice him, an unfortunate side effect of having a short stature, but they did notice Sebastian’s looming figure, which immediately gestured towards his young Lord.

“Good Afternoon, Mr. Gatlin? I’d like to congratulate you on your newest contract with the East India Corporation,” Ciel offered a subdued smile, holding his arm out.

\--

She was late.

Truly, accidentally, rather impolitely: late.

Elizabeth hurriedly stepped out the carriage, easily tugging her large gown through the door’s small opening. She swept up the street into the hotel; Paula trailed silently behind her after giving the carriage driver his orders.

Right before entering, Elizabeth turned towards her maid, who was looking at her with crimson eyes full of amused concern.

“Do I look alright? We’re supposed to be matching. He’d hardly want to match with a ruffian.”

They’d gotten several matching couples outfits a few months ago, making a day out of visiting Nina’s boutique. While the clothes were lovely outfits worn separately, they looked stunning next to their matching pairs.

She was wearing an emerald green gown, pale crème silk ribbons, detailed yellow lace, and intricate pearl beading decorated the skirt, while the waist and bodice were simple, covered in lacy horizontal stripes to accentuate her slim waist. Her hair was held up in her signature double ponytails, and on a gold chain, she had a rather large emerald (a gift from her majesty) hanging beneath her collarbones.

And of course, her eyepatch. The same deep green as her dress, beautifully covered with small iridescent beads in swirls and curls. Her best attempt at making the eyepatch less of a grotesque impairment and more of an accessory.

Though, Elizabeth’s concern lied in her pallor, which was still rather pale after she’d caught the flu a couple days ago in Germany. It had been harsh, enough to prescribe her days of bedrest and an immediate ticket back to England.

She was still rather weak from it, despite the Doctor reassuring her she wasn’t contagious.

“You look lovely, Miss. Not corpse-like in the least,” Paula cooed, fingers gently straightening the emerald necklace and smoothing her hair, “He’ll be very happy to see you.”

Elizabeth exhaled loudly, nodding, before walking through the entrance.

It was an exclusive hotel, with an imposing interior, lined with large windows, marble pillars, and a lovely Venetian tiled floor. It was one of the hardest places in London to book,

Two guards lined the door, holding the doors open, while a butler stood holding the door open and another insured those entering were allowed to be there. Typically they’d ask for a name, but in Elizabeth’s case, they simply nodded, smiling graciously as she walked past.

It was rare for Elizabeth to go anywhere unrecognized.

“Hall 2, Marchioness Midford,” one of the butler’s informed, stepping forward to take her coat.

“How late are we, Paula?” Elizabeth asked, shrugging off her heavy fur coat.

Paula hummed, taking Elizabeth’s coat before she shrugged her own off, and handed both heavy fur overcoats off to the butler. The man gingerly took them, looking at Elizabeth with wide eyes, as if he expected her to whip out a sword at any second.

The two women paid him no mind, quite used to the intimidated reaction.

“Late enough,” Paula answered, softly petting Elizabeth’s hair, “that the lord Phantomhive is likely ready to leave.”

Elizabeth held back a sheepish smile, “Whoops. Our bad?”

Paula snickered, gently leading Elizabeth towards the banquet hall, “I do think the blame falls on the bandits who attacked our carriage, don’t you?”

They had been on time until a group of twenty bandits had completely taken out her five soldier entourage. Not wanting to get her own dress dirty, she’d looked towards Paula to take care of it. The demon effortlessly wrapped up the entire situation in fifteen minutes. The issue, however, was getting her five injured soldiers to the hospital on the other side of London.

So instead of being thirty minutes early, she was an hour late.

_Honestly, for all the hype, the Queen’s guard dog is doing a shit job. Bandits? In the nation’s capital? What exactly does he spend his time doing?_

Regardless of how the blame fell, Elizabeth couldn’t help but feel mildly ashamed. After all, Ciel hated such events, yet he’d accepted the invitation as a favor to her, under the assumption he’d be in her company. And in return, she’d forced him to undergo it alone for nearly an hour.

“Do you want to be announced?” Paula asked, looking at the servant who stood at the door, awaiting an order.

Elizabeth shook her head. It was her right as a direct member of the Queen’s inner circle to be announced whenever she entered a room.

However, she didn’t want to be Captain Midford.

She wanted to be Marchioness Midford, the young Phantomhive heir’s betrothed.

It was silly of her. Elizabeth knew she was both, and she held no delusions of which one was more important to the public.

A knighted harlot with a sadistic streak doing the Queen’s work was a far more interesting story than a girl madly in love with her fiancé.

Paula hummed, shooing the man away.

“He’ll happy to see you, little one. Big smile,” Paula grinned, maliciousness just barely peeking out in her scarlet eyes.

It was in opposites that Paula’s nature shone. In the compliments, in the smiles, in her laugh. It’s as if her mask slipped ever so slightly in those moments, whether it was purposeful or by accident, Elizabeth would never know, but it was just enough for hellishness to flicker in her eyes.

A shiver rattled down Elizabeth’s spine, shaking Paula’s hand off her shoulder.

“Right, well, I’m going to head off to debrief the General. And you can schedule tea with the Queen tomorrow to inform her personally?” Paula asked, already turning around to leave.

Elizabeth nodded as she walked into the ballroom, pointedly looking at the butler, making sure he didn’t announce her. He deferentially ducked his head, opening the door for her.

Immediately she was met with the familiar sound of English.

Heaven.

One doesn’t realize how important language is until they spend two months in a foreign country. Of course, Elizabeth knew how to speak German fluently, but the sheer amount of naughty jokes that must have passed beneath her notice is probably astounding.

She scanned the crowd, recognizing most faces, but not anyone she was socially required to greet.

Ciel didn’t immediately stand out amongst the crowd, which in itself wasn’t too much of a surprise. He was rather slight, after all, making him easily hidden amongst several people.

There were two large groups of people, one by the door, and the other across the dance floor, next to the banquet table. Methodically, Elizabeth began walking through the crowd of people, looking for a flash of emerald green.

Old women, mothers, watched her walk by, fluttering their fans and leaving trails of ‘whore’ in her wake. Younger girls pointed, giggling with large eyes and nervous fingers. Men of all ages stared, confused, jealous, annoyed stares, wondering just how _dangerous_ could she be?

Elizabeth ignored them.

She was used to it.

“Captain Midford?”

She turned around to see a young man, sturdy build, dull brown hair, blue eyes, standing with a confidence of someone who’d never been told no.

“Yes?” she asked, smiling brightly.

The man gave her a respectful smile; he had to, the amount of power she held over his fathers, brothers, cousins. No noble got a military position without her approval, no noble got royal protection without her approval, no noble left the country without her approval.

“Lord Beryle, the Count’s son.”

The man ducked his head slightly in a makeshift bow, making Elizabeth curious at what demand necessitated such flattery.

“I’ve heard of you,”- she hadn’t- , “How may I be of service?”

Beryle’s smile grew wider, pleased, as if he thought he’d already won her over. He took a step closer. “Well, you see. My brother applied for the guard, and he was rather disappointed with the position that he was offered.”

 _Ah,_ Elizabeth nodded internally, _promotions… How predictable._

Elizabeth’s smile grew brighter, hoping to ease a bit of the sting, “I’m afraid I can’t help you. I’m sure the council gave him the best position they could.”

“I’m sure I could change your mind,” Beryle grinned.

She shook her head, praying the man wouldn’t start flirting with her. “I will not risk the lives of a hundred men, just so your brother gets a position that satisfies his ego. He’s welcome to rise through the ranks, and I enthusiastically welcome the possibility. However, the position he was offered is the only one he will receive.”

“I do beg of you, _Elizabeth_ ,” he asked, widening his eyes like she would immediately roll over at the sight of a pout.

Her Christian name rolled off his tongue with a slimy familiarity that left her uncomfortable. Only a select few got to call her that anymore, only the few people she had left, and this _stranger_ didn’t have that right.

So many people took rights and privileges with her, simply because she was a young woman.

_And then I have to spend minutes of my day, cutting them down, putting them back where they belong._

She stared at him, smile bright, eyes frigid cold, “You would do well to treat me with respect, Lord Beryle.”

“You don’t even know my brother, Captain Midford. At least let him prove himself?”

Elizabeth took a step forward, hands smoothing down his shoulders, and sliding down his arms, gripping his weak upper arms with a painfully tight squeeze.

“I know that he isn’t here, talking to me himself. I know he sent you to bribe me. I know he wouldn’t mind having a position through dishonorable means. I know he thinks quite highly of himself, even though it’s clearly undeserved. I know him well enough, Lord Berlye, and I suggest you walk away before I decide to take offense.”

The man stuttered and Elizabeth released him, brushing past without a word, scoffing as she did so.

 _Berlye._ She’d have to remember that name.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elizabeth finds Ciel.  
> Ciel makes a business deal.

With one last scan over the crowd, Elizabeth decided that Ciel was likely on the other side of the dance floor. It was either that or the dance floor itself, and Ciel was a notably poor dancer.

There had got to be at least three left feet on that man. Three adorable left feet.

She crossed the dance floor with little hassle, walking around happy couples, as she kept a lookout.

A flash of green caught her eye, and Elizabeth whipped her head toward it.

Ciel.

There he was. Elizabeth’s heart began racing, and her palms began to sweat- nervousness entangling within her elation.

She rushed towards him, squealing, “Ciel!”

Uncaring of the rather uncivilized display, she pushed and swung around people, practically running towards him. Her skirt swung like a bell around her legs, but it didn’t matter because _Ciel was right there._

Lord Phantomhive barely had a moment, before he was hit with the full weight of Captain Midford.

Her arms came first, and she wrapped them around his neck, swinging slightly before she got her balance, tucking her head into the crook of his neck; the familiar smell of clean laundry and tea greeting her as she nuzzled the soft fabric of his shirt.

For the first time in three weeks, Elizabeth felt whole, like a malfunctioning life organ had begun working again.

Home.

She was home.

Unfazed and entirely used to Elizabeth’s assault-like hugs, Ciel simply took a moment to regain his balance before wrapping his arms around Elizabeth’s waist and gently pressing his face into her golden blonde hair.

“I don’t understand why I leave, when missing you hurts so much,” Elizabeth whimpered.

She knew she was being rather pathetic, but _dear god_ was she desperate for affection; touch-starved for three weeks, with nothing to comfort her but Paula’s sharp nails and disdainfully doting hugs, left pining for her fiance's 

Quietly, in more of a hush than actual words, Ciel confessed, “I completely understand the sentiment, Lizzie.”

Elizabeth melted, shoulders dropping as those simple words reassured her of everything important.

“I love you so much, Ciel Phantomhive.”

“I know, Lizzie,” Ciel replied, voice too warm to mean anything else but _I love you too._

Comfortable and reassured, Elizabeth pulled back slightly, so she could get a good look at Ciel.

His gun-metal grey hair brushed his forehead, hiding his sapphire eyes, longer than it had been when she left. His face was the exact same, straight nose, adorable lips, and high aristocratic cheekbones. His shoulders were straight and everything about him was delicately lovely as ever.

His coat and shorts were the exact same emerald green as her gown, the high thread count fabric gleaming slightly as it emphasized his slim waist and gentle sloping shoulders. His striped vest and white shirt again mirrored her bodice. And his ascot a cream colored ribbon with some subtle beading at the bottom mirrored her… eyepatch.

There was something about seeing him wear an outfit matching hers that immediately set her at ease. The knowledge that everyone who looked at them immediately realized they were a couple was a heady idea.

However, she did notice a change, something in the way he stood, a change in his posture, maybe he was standing straighter or he’d grown taller. An indistinguishable thing that made him seem older, more mature than the last time she’d seen him.

 _Ciel_ was all Elizabeth could think.

How he was here and hers. How… Somehow this beautiful, smart, talented boy deemed her worthy of his-

A polite cough snapped her out of revere.

Right.

Elizabeth didn’t move away, but she turned. She tucked an arm into the crook of Ciel’s pressing their sides together intimately in a way that wasn’t quite proper.

She looked towards Sebastian first, the source of the cough.

“Sebastian, how are you?” she asked, offering no respectful titles or platitudes, but keeping her tone warm.

The man, Ciel’s bodyguard, butler, assistant, tutor, guardian all rolled into one. With sharp grey eyes, a crisp-pressed suit, and a posture far too straight, he reminded Elizabeth of a bolt of electricity, sharp lines and a wide spread lethality. He never failed to set Elizabeth on edge.

He was also the best thing to happen to Ciel, so she kept quiet.

“Captain Midford, a pleasure to see you again. I am quite well, thank you, though my hands have been rather full with my master’s current business merger,” Sebastian answered, bowing with a hand pressed to his chest.

Elizabeth smiled; the butler always seemed to get everything done correctly, leaving the ‘how are you’ question available for someone else to use, and offering a topic of conversation Ciel could actively participate in.

“Oh?” Elizabeth asked Ciel, “What business merger? Is it Funtom? Or the trade company you’re starting?”

Tapping his cane lightly, the Lord Phantomhive gave her a proud look, impressed she remembered a conversation from over two months ago. “Trade. I’m considering dabbling in tea and spices, maybe curry. Due to our Asian contacts and colonies, we get goods that the rest of Europe has hardly heard about. It’s a market waiting to be capitalized.”

Elizabeth nodded, immediately thinking of the young Indian Prince she’d met a few months ago when acting as a British diplomat. Well intentioned, driven, and petulant, he’d reminded her far too much of Ciel for her to do anything but adore him. Soma still resided in England, caring for the main Midford manor for when she couldn’t be there. She considered them close friends. Not to mention, Soma’s protector, Agni, was an amazing cook.

“I have a contact for Spices and Curry, remind me later to set up a meeting. He’s from the Bengal region, specifically, but I’m sure he could help you out with negotiating, not to mention recipes,” Elizabeth offered.

Ciel glanced at her, “Thank you. I’ll remind you. That’s actually what I was speaking with Mr. Gatlin about. He owns much of the railroad in France and Germany.”

At this, Elizabeth finally noticed that there were two men standing in front of them, awkwardly staring.

One was clearly far wealthy than the other, blonde hair, lopsided mustache, and a gut barely contained by his expensive suit. He was staring at Elizabeth, specifically at her eyepatch, no doubt imagining a grotesque wound hiding underneath it.

The other looked sharper, though not by much, dark eyes, and slumped posture brought on by an excess of alcohol. He was looking at the crease where Elizabeth’s body was pressed against Ciel’s.

She wasn’t sure with one made her more uncomfortable, though she was used to both.

“Mr. Gatlin,”

“Marchioness Midford, a pleasure. This is my friend Yakob Yates.”

“Mr. Yates.”

“Marchioness Midford.”

Mr. Gatlin nodded, still staring at her eyepatch, “Yes. This young man was just asking about the possibility of using my railroads as transport to Spain and Portugal. It’s lovely to see such precocious children.”

Elizabeth’s eye narrowed at the condescending words.

“I think precocious is hardly an apt description for being the owner of one of the fastest companies in Britain?”

Ciel didn’t react at all, but Elizabeth felt affronted.

At 15, Ciel had managed to create an entire company, profitable and efficient, without any help from his parents. He’d out preformed any other toy company currently in business by a wide margin, dominating the market within two years of entering it. Strategy and intelligence gleamed in every single business decision he’d made from importing cheaper materials from Portugal to streamlining factory work here in London.

No one had faith that Ciel would be strong enough to live this long, let alone be a successful heir to the Phantomhive Earldom, and Ciel proved them _wrong_. He’d fought tooth and nail for the power and prestige he now had, and Elizabeth would be _damned_ if she let someone take it away from him so carelessly.

Respect Lord Phantomhive on your feet or kneel at the end of Captain Midford’s sword.

Those were the _only_ two options.

Mr. Gatlin stumbled, not expecting to be called out on his pettiness, “Oh well, yes, of course. I meant no offense.”

“Yet, you caused it anyway.”

With a laugh under his breath and a smirk, Ciel turned towards Elizabeth, “It’s of no concern. I merely wanted to inform Mr. Gatlin that I have plans on entering the business myself, and it would be much easier to use a pre-made railway than building a new one myself.”

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow, “Yes?”

The Lord Phantomhive smirked, “So, I’m buying his company.”

_Ciel didn’t tolerate disrespect, either._

Elizabeth laughed.

Ciel smiled.

Mr. Gatlin choked.

“Mr- Lord Phantomhive, I must- there’s just- I mean… you could hardly afford to _do_ such a thing.”

Sebastian spoke up, offering a gentle squinty-eyed smile, “My Lord isn’t buying the entire Jean Kilmore Gatlin Company, that would be preposterous, simply the least profitable part of it. Which would happen to be the Galtin portion, or your locomotive venture in France and Spain.”

“Apologies,” Elizabeth said, already turning away from the pale faced businessmen, “My fiancée and I have much to catch up on.”

“Make arrangements, Sebastian,” Ciel threw over his shoulder.

How the butler would have any idea what Ciel meant by that, Elizabeth had no idea.

Ciel let himself be led to the dance floor, recognizing the waltz playing as one of the few dances he could do without making a fool of himself.

Easily slipping into the crowd, the couple arranged themselves into the proper position; Elizabeth subtly correcting Ciel’s posture with a gentle tap to the shoulder. With simple swirling steps, they moved with the crowd, not speaking until they both left like they had the hang of it.

“Was it pre-meditated? Your purchase?” Elizabeth asked, struggling to hold back giggles.

Ciel rolled his eyes, “No. I was originally planning on just paying a transport fee, but he was insufferable.”

Suppressing the urge to pinch his cheeks, Elizabeth cooed, “Well, he won’t be underestimating my little fiancée again.”

“I have several complaints with that statement.”

“You’re an inch shorter than me, Lord Phantomhive.”

As he twirled her in a spin, they both went silent, focusing on the difficult step. It would hardly do for the both of them to make fools of themselves during one of the select occasions they were seen together.

When they went back to simple footwork, Ciel huffed. “That hardly means I’m little, the height of Elizabeth Midford- as far as I know- isn’t unit of measurement.”

“No, those would be centimeters. Of which, you have few.”

Ciel gave her a firm look, and Elizabeth laughed, briefly hiding her face in his shoulder; the action was a tad forced, but she was desperate to reaffirm their stale intimacy.

It might have been idiotic, but she _craved_ it. The desire to have him close burned in her chest like a bonfire, fueled by his 3 week absence.

She wanted Ciel to look at her and declare his love. To smile at her, say he’d burn the world for her, and then go out and _do it_. She wanted to feel his arms around her, possessively protecting her from the world like a prized treasure.

But that was both a selfish and impossible wish.

She loved Ciel more than he loved her and that was perfectly fine.

So she settled for his small smiles and his sparse touches, treasuring each memory with a degree of unhealthy reverence.

 “You aren’t funny.”

She pulled back to see Ciel smiling.

“I think I’m funny.”

“Well, I think you're late,” Ciel scoffed around a smile.

Elizabeth pouted while her heart fluttered in her chest. “I’m sorry that I was late. I should have left for London earlier.”

She didn’t mention the bandits. No need to worry Ciel unnecessarily.

“Tardiness isn’t attractive,” Ciel paused, “But I suppose I forgive you.”

They waltzed in silence.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Sebastian slip out of the room. Likely going to go do whatever Ciel had ordered him to. She looked around the room, noticing the numerous eyes on them. Not only from spectators but other dancers as well.

Mothers fluttering their fans, cooing over the young Lord Phantomhive, successful businessman with a large estate and a larger fortune.

Young men jabbing each other with elbows, pointing out Captain Midford, and _oh god no way_ that’s the woman in charge of our country’s safety.

“How have you been? I understand you were ill??”

Elizabeth blinked, attention turning back towards Ciel. “The last week or so. I caught the flu, apparently. It wasn’t attractive, dry heaving and insomnia didn’t make for a good complexion.”

“You should be resting. I’m sure you’re tired.”

As they sped up their pace to match the music, Elizabeth smiled sheepishly, “I do get dizzy when I stand up to fast or do anything strenuous, but otherwise I’m fine.”

“Should you even be dancing right now? We could have easily rescheduled our outing. Honestly, Lizzie, you’ll make me go grey before I even reach adulthood-“

CRACK.

Elizabeth’s head whipped around to see-

CRACK.

The ballroom’s large windows-

CRACK CRACK

Shatter.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elizabeth does her best to protect her fiance.

The glass fell down in a rain of glittering shards, as the shrieks of other guests echoed over the crashing sound.

Instinctively, Elizabeth tugged Ciel behind her, drawing out the sword hidden in her large skirt. Men dressed in black with gold emblems on their backs climbed in through the windows holding guns and swords.

 _Three, thirteen, twenty,_ Elizabeth’s eyes widened as she counted the men who just kept coming. _Thirty five. Dammit._

Her personal guard was in the hospital.

Paula was at the palace.

The building didn’t have its own protection.

There was no way she’d be able to take on that many alone.

“Elizabeth,” Ciel whispered, urgently tapping her shoulder, “What do we do?”

 _Ciel_.

“Move,” she growled, turning around, and pushing them through the frantic crowd.

Nearly everyone in attendance were upper class folk, meaning they'd never been in such a situation. They'd all frozen in shock, stone-like in their confusion. Their adrenaline rush coursed haphazardly through their veins and left them at a disadvantage.

Elizabeth turned, ready to push a dazed Ciel towards the exit, only to see him looking back at her with bright, intelligent eyes. She turned him around and pushed him towards the entrance with the hand that wasn't holding a sword.

They were half way to the exit when there was a loud BANG.

_Gunshot._

Silence.

And then a loud, booming voice called out from behind them.

“I’m sorry everyone… We don’t want to hurt ya. We’re just here for the dog. If Ciel Phantomhive could just step forward, this’ll be over quickly.”

Ciel froze beside her.

Elizabeth had to stop herself from doing the same.

“Go,” she hissed, shoving him forward.

There was a brief moment of silence.

“Oh, Lord Phantomhive? Are ya here? No? Guess we’ll have to go through you all one by one, then.”

Screams of surprise turned into shrieks of pain, and slowly the crowd began to move. Shifting from shock to hysteria, people began rushing towards the exit just as Elizabeth and Ciel slipped out.

They firmly shut the door behind them. Locking it.

The Captain part of her cringed at closing an exit, but the worried fiancée reasoned that there were four other exits for people to pour out of. She wasn't going to risk her Ciel getting hurt in the rush of frantic limbs, not when the attackers were specifically looking for him.

There was barely a moment for her to breathe before a sword swung her way.

She spun out of the way, creating distance between her and Ciel.

Two men had been guarding the door, dressed in the same all-black uniforms. They were bulky, muscled and tall, with large heavy swords in their hands. Their faces were covered by leather masks, and their shirts had a silver insignia on the breast.

One of them moved towards her, while the other moved towards Ciel.

_Damn it._

Her vision was already swimming; a headache blooming from the quick spin.

She swung her sword, thin and light towards the man’s direction, aiming for an arm and meeting air instead. The man moved far quicker than what one would expect from his heavy frame, ducking under her sword and swinging his own at her legs, nearly nicking her ankle.

She was wearing a corset, her tightest one, and she could feel her ribs creaking as she moved defensively, which typically would have been an annoyance, but now, with her limbs still fuzzy from illness… It was a legitimate concern.

“Ciel,” she shouted, “Behind me.”

She didn’t look to see if he’d followed her order, much too focused on dodging the heavy swing of the sword aimed at her neck.

She stepped back, the motion partly obstructed by her large skirt, and before she got her bearings the other guard stepped into her view, thrusting his sword at her chest.

_They were fast. Not so fast as to cause Elizabeth many problems, but just enough to worry her._

She fell to the floor; the only way for her to avoid getting impaled. Blinding pain lanced through her chest - _damn I think that was a rib, bloody fucking corset-_ as she arched her back on the floor, swing her sword at their feet

One man fell, his foot nearly detached from the ankle.

The other had side-stepped, and attempted to pin her to the floor.

“Just hand the dog over, Captain, and we won’t hurt you.”

Not deeming that statement worth a response, Elizabeth rolled out of the way, unable to waste the few seconds it would take to painfully get up. Instead she grabbed the fallen man’s heavy sword and threw it at the one still standing.

Almost gracefully the man blocked the incoming sword with his own blade, but that was all the time Elizabeth needed to stand back up.

And now without the element of surprise, the man lost the edge he’d had. He was quick and powerful, yes, but Elizabeth was the best swordsman in Britain.

Within seconds; Elizabeth’s light sword had cut the man’s thigh and hand before finding a temporary home in his heart.

“No one,” she growled, pulling out her sword, “Insults my fiancée.”

She let out a shaky breath, watching the man fall to the ground, dead. Remaining focused, she turned to the other man, who was bleeding profusely from the ankle but still alive, and pinned him to the floor with his own sword.

_There. The Knight’s will be able to question him later._

The man would likely bleed out first, but Elizabeth couldn’t find it within herself to care.

He let out a dull moan and a soft ‘please’ but Elizabeth ignored him. The man had gone after her fiancée; he was lucky to be alive.

She wiped her bloody sword on her dress before tucking it back into her skirt.

She’d been stupid, not bringing an actual weapon; the one she had at the moment was a nimble, thin thing, more decorative than functional, and she had been rather lucky that it didn’t break.

Allowing herself a moment to collect herself, Elizabeth exhaled loudly, feeling her limbs twitch anxiously in as a reminder of how weak she was in the moment. She was panting, something rather unusual for her, but considering the state of her health, Elizabeth considered it acceptable. However, her ribs _hurt_ , and if she twisted _just like that_ , _yep, there it is_. She was pretty sure she’d broken a rib or two.

Deep breath in.

 _Sink into the pain_.

Deep breath out.

Then. Finally, she turned around. _Ciel_.

Her fiancée stood behind her, eyes a little too blank with a worried expression on his face. Otherwise he looked no worse for wear. Thank goodness.

“Ciel.”

He blinked.

“Ciel,” she repeated, shaking him a little, “Are you alright? We have to leave.”

Finally, he nodded. “Yes. Okay. I’m fine.”

She nodded, exhaling loudly and looking around.

The hotel lobby was pristine, showing no signs of the commotion occurring further inside. It was completely empty, no signs of the butlers from earlier, either.

“You’re still recovering from your illness. That scuffle should have taken seconds.” The words are blunt, matter-of-fact, clearly not intended as an insult, but _oh did it feel like one._

“I’m fine. I’m the best swordsman in Britain, Dear. Just stay behind me, Ciel, okay?” she smirked, trying to add a teasing tone to the words.

“Yes, of course, my brave Knight,” Ciel answered, sardonically, reassuring her that he was okay.

“Good.”

She took one of the men’ heavy swords in one hand, her light one in the other, and led the way.

The hotel lobby was still empty, and the screams from the banquet hall were only increasing in volume.

Carefully, she led them through the lobby towards the entrance of the hotel. No one stopped them. No one was there _to_ stop them.

_Too quiet._

_Somethings wrong._

Ciel’s heels clacked against the tile floor, an accompaniment to the swish of her large skirt, and the dull screams of terror coming from behind them.

_There’s got to be a clue._

“Do you know why they want you?” Elizabeth whispered.

Ciel shook his head.

“Okay.”

_Okay._

They were almost free. Almost out of the hotel, no other guards in sight. There was a coach waiting outside, likely for a guest planning on leaving early. They could get in and get to the palace, and figure out what was going on.

_Ciel would be safe._

_Just get to the coach._

_Just get to the coach._

They walked out, through the unguarded entrance. With a quick few steps, she practically pushed Ciel into the carriage, only to immediately pull him out again.

Masked men in black uniforms grinned at her from inside.

_Dammit. Dammit. Dammit._

“Run,” she commanded.

She shoved them into an alleyway, keeping Ciel in front of her to make sure he didn’t fall behind.

She had counted six men inside, and two in the driver’s seat.

Eight.

_She could take eight._

And then a bullet whizzed past her ear.

And another hit her arm, speeding through her with a searing heat.

Pain lanced up her upper arm and shoulder, making her drop the heavy sword she’d stolen.

She didn’t stop, didn’t think about it. She couldn’t do anything but turn left into another alleyway and continue running.

Ciel was a few steps in front of her, but he wouldn’t be able to keep this pace for much longer. His asthma was bound to make an appearance soon. She listened to his breathing the best she could, over the steady gunfire now echoing through the maze of alleys.

Her flimsy shoes had slipped off a few steps ago, and now the rough gravel was cutting into the soles of her feet.

They turned left, and then right, only to run into four more masked men.

_Bloody…_

Three with swords, one with a gun.

“Give us the dog, Captain Midford.”

_Dog? Oh, they’re going to pay for that._

Enraged at the repeated insult, Elizabeth slid protectively in front of Ciel, pushing them out of the way of a bullet.  The three men with swords stayed back as the man fired another bullet, this one breaking her sword in half.

 _Dammit_.

As the man re-cocked his pistol, Elizabeth threw her broken sword at the gunman, impaling him in the throat. His gun skidded across the asphalt, moving far enough that she could have grabbed it.

In any other situation, she would have dove for the gun and shot the other men, dispatching the three with ease, but that would have left Ciel open, defenseless.

There was a brief moment of fuzzy, slow-minded hesitation, before she moved, and that was all the men needed to dive for the gun themselves.

So instead, she reclaimed her broken sword, half the size it used to be, and stabbed the man who attempted to grab the gun, barely getting up quick enough to block a swing.

She twirled out of the way, keeping light on her bloody, raw toes; she was used to their speed now. Quick heavy motions meant that they wasted precious seconds following through their swings, and she used those minutes to the best of her advantage, cutting at arms and thighs while they were over-swinging.

Her arm hurt; it burned, distracting her from their swings, making it difficult to think as quickly as she needed in order to keep her movements sharp.

The two men left twirled around her, quick and light, allowing her no slack, or space to move. The second she saw an opening, she moved, uncaring that the other man had an opportunity to hit the back of her head.

By the time she’d dispatched the third, their heavy swords had made quick work of her thin, already comprised sword and her head throbbed from the last blow. Her vision had begun to grow grey, dulling as her breathing was heavier than it’d been in months, ribs pressing forcefully against her corset.

So there she was, facing the last one unarmed, remaining Ciel’s human shield, dodging the man’s swings waiting for the moment to-

His sword sliced her side, her dress taking absolutely none of the damage-

_They’re so fast, how are they so fast?_

Flinching, she punched him hard in the throat, her sharp rings cutting deep into his skin, damaging his windpipe; wrenching his sword from his grasp, she used to stab him in the stomach.

She gasped in pain as the other man fell, blood was quickly seeping into her dress. A dark red patch of blood grew in size on her waist, visibly marking her injury.

All four men were incapacitated on the ground, and she stumbled as she picked up a sword and checked the gun, only to find it empty.

“Lizzie.”

It hurt. Hearing her name.

Her lungs ached, her side was pinched in sharp pain, her arm burned, her feet were bleeding, but the shame? _It killed her._

She was a Captain.

This was her job, and she’d gotten lazy. She’d been unprepared, weaker than she’d been in years, armed only with a light sword that was more of an emergency knife than an actual weapon, and now she couldn’t even protect her own fiancé.

This was mortifying.

It was only her luck that her mortification would end up being lethal.

“Do you,” she panted, “Know somewhere safe? Where we can go? We won’t make it to the palace at this rate.”

Ciel nodded.

“Are… Can you run?” he asked.

She nodded, gesturing for him to go ahead.

Even if she couldn’t, she would. She’d protect him at any cost. The blood would drain from her body, before she let him go unprotected.

The sounds of gunshots got closer as they ran. Ciel still hadn’t slowed his pace, and Elizabeth stayed behind him, ensuring that any bullets fired would have to go through her first.

They turned another corner, and another.

And there, in the distance were 3 more men, and Ciel immediately turned the other way only to see four more men coming towards them.

And two from the left, and three from the right.

Twelve.

_She couldn’t take twelve._

Her bullet wounded arm would give out before that. Her blurry vision would go dark before that. Her side wound would bleed out before that. But still, there wasn’t an alternative, so she held up her heavy sword, taking a step, and then stumbling. Black dots swirled across her vision as she attempted to stand up.

“Ciel,” she attempted to shout, but _god it hurt to breathe_ , and the name came out as a whimper.

There was a moment, where she looked at her small, delicate fiancée, where she looked at his deep, beautiful sapphire eyes and felt nothing but _worry, shame, fear, fear, fear, fear._

 _She was going to lose him_.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ciel saves Elizabeth.  
> Elizabeth can't even.

_She was going to lose him_.

And then she watched Ciel sigh and look at her apologetically, “I’m sorry. I truly did want to be under your protection, but I’d rather you be _alive_ than like me.”

_What?_

Ciel, the thin, fragile boy, pulled out two pistols from inside his coat. There was a steely look in his eye, and a sturdy posture she’d never seen him have. Suddenly, in a moment, that flimsy, gentle grace Ciel had worn since birth vanished without a trace, leaving a unfamiliar solid, stiff strength.

He cocked, aimed, and fired in quick succession.

Fluid, sharp motions of the wrist were the only movement Ciel made, the rest of his body stock still, absorbing the kickback with no struggle.

One, _two, thr-fo-five, six, sev-eight, nine, ten, elev-twelve._

Only fifteen seconds later, twelve corpses littered the ground around them, each with a hole perfectly centered between their eyes.

Ciel pulled more bullets out of his pockets, reloading one pistol and then the other.

“Honestly, I should have packed more bullets.”

_What?_

Elizabeth was going to faint.

“What?” she whispered, her vision growing dark.

Ciel quickly came to her side, “I’ll take care of you, Lizzie. Okay? Can you stand up for me?”

“Dog,” she whispered, _realizing._

_It wasn’t an insult._

_It was a title._

_The Queen’s guard dog._

_The new one, ready to take his successors mantle. A crack shot and a sharp mind. Moved like a **phantom** in the shadows-_

Her stomach heaved, making her body jerk and moan in pain.

“ _Captain Midford_ can you stand?” Ciel’s voice was hard as a rock.

It was an order. Elizabeth always followed her orders.

“Yes,” she whispered, too far gone to be shocked at the uncharacteristic tone.

Shakily, she rose to her knees, and with help she got to her feet. Ciel took her weight, ducking underneath her uninjured arm and letting her lean against him.

They were walking slowly. Elizabeth stumbling every other step, but they were moving. That didn’t mean she had to keep her eyes open.

 _Right_?

Her eyes left heavy and her vision was full of black spots anyway, so she just let her eyes flutter closed.

“Elizabeth.”

She groaned softly.

“I know somewhere we can go, okay? It’s not far. But you have to _stay awake_. You understand?” Ciel demanded.

She groaned again, nodding slightly.

“Keep your eyes open, Lizzie. Come on. What were we going to do today? Keep talking.” Ciel shook her shoulder, stopping their walking to stroke a gentle thumb across her cheek. “Open your eyes, Captain Midford.”

_Captain Midford, Captain Midford, Captain Midford._

_Oh god…_ Bracing herself against the pain, Elizabeth opened her eyes and licked her lips, leaning into Ciel’s soft hand. Everything _burned,_ and a quick downward glance showed her how much of her dress had been covered by the large blood stain.

“Oh,” she said, nodding, understanding, “I’m dying.”

Underneath her, Ciel stiffened, dropped his hand, and began moving them again. “What were we going to do today, Elizabeth?”

“Lizzie.”

“I’m not going to call you Lizzie, if you’re disappointing me.”

 “H-how?”

_I’m dying. Couldn’t he at least pretend to love me? At this point? In my last moment, couldn’t he just… show me a bit of mercy?_

_But then again, Ciel was never known for being merciful._

_And neither was the Queen’s guard dog, for that matter._

“You’re supposed to be protecting me,” he says, practically dragging her forward, “You’re the one with the sword. The Knight in shining fucking armor.”

She whimpered.

“I don’t fault you for falling. _What I do fault you for_ is being pathetic. You aren’t allowed to die, _dammit._ You aren’t allowed to fucking leave me. My fiancé doesn’t get to bloody do that.”

Her eyes began to grow heavy again, but Elizabeth fought against the urge. She wouldn’t leave him alone. Until he was safe. She could do that much.

Until he was safe.

Just until he was safe.

 “Sorry,” she whispered.

“Make it up to me. What were we going to do today?”

Swallowing despite her dry mouth, Elizabeth managed to rasp, “It was going to be perfect. I was going to pamper you. My little fiancé.”

“Yes?” Ciel prodded.

But Elizabeth wasn’t focused on him, she heard footsteps.

_There’s another… I can’t… I can’t protect-_

She barely had her mouth open to warn him, before Ciel was shifting to grab his pistol, aiming a shot to their left, before continuing their slow paced walking with hardly a sound. Ciel didn’t even _look_ as the man fell to the ground.

“ _Ciel_.”

“Don’t worry about anything. I just want to hear about our plans.”

Moaning, she managed out, “Picnic… we were ‘oing… night, for the stars… Special cons- conslation”

Ciel nodded, answering, “I think I heard something about that? The 13th zodiac wasn’t it? What else?”

\--

It had been nearly twenty minutes of Ciel forcing Elizabeth awake as they walked. In those twenty minutes, Ciel had shot another two dozen men charging their way.

Much too dazed, she couldn’t muster up the brainpower to ask her pressing questions. Her only goal was to keep her eyes open, for Ciel’s sake.

“Good job, Lizzie,” Ciel whispered, breathing heavy, “We made it.”

Lady Midford looked up, expecting a townhouse or a family business, instead…

“No,” she moaned, clutching at Ciel’s coat, “Isn’t safe. Lau runs- opium… Please.”

A soft hand stroked her hers, “We’re fine, Lizzie.”

With the last ounce of strength she had, Elizabeth forced her hand up to her eyepatch, sliding it up just enough that she could see a sliver of light.

“fix... me, you …” she managed to whisper, before everything went black.

\--

“Dammit,” Ciel growled, just barely catching Elizabeth in time.

He tucked his pistol into his coat momentarily as he swung her over his shoulder, swaying slightly underneath the weight. After she was somewhat secure, Phantomhive pulled his pistol back out and trudged towards the Opium den.

The building itself was rather nice, though in the middle of the Chinese district, one wouldn’t be able to guess from the exterior that much London’s underground network filtered through the building. It looked like an exotic hotel, an expensive one.

Two women stood in front of the buildings large doors, dressed in tight, blank kimonos, guarding the entrance. They looked upon him blankly.

“Lord Phantomhive.”

“I need medical assistance for her and protection for the next couple hours,” Ciel demanded, used to the women’s behavior.

They simply nodded, never wasting words- a trademark of Lau’s people.

Silent, beautiful, and efficient.

One woman gently slipped Elizabeth off of Ciel’s shoulder and into her own arms. The other opened the door for them before disappearing inside the building, presumably to alert Lau. Barely ten seconds later, two new women appeared, replacing the previous guards.

The woman corralled him down a series of hallways, taking so many turns, it was difficult for Ciel to keep track of their path. Oriental paintings and artifacts lined the walls, just as soaked in the musky, sweet smell of Opium smoke as everything else.

She came to a sudden stop in front of a door, opening the door with her foot, revealing a large bedroom.

Ciel didn’t want to think about what it was normally used for.

After gently setting Elizabeth down on the bed, the woman climbed on the bed, straddling Elizabeth’s hips and pulling out a knife.

A second later, Ciel had his pistol pressed against the woman’s throat.

“Explain yourself.” Ciel gripped the gun tighter, fingers twitching on the trigger.

Impressively, the woman hadn’t even flinched, continuing to move the knife towards Elizabeth’s prone body. “She’s injured. The clothes need to come off.”

Ciel blinked.

Then blushed.

“Oh. Right.”

There was a brief second where Ciel wondered whether or not to turn around, but he quickly decided he wasn’t willing to sacrifice Elizabeth’s safety for societal rules of propriety. And, regardless, he wasn’t some pervert; she was his _fiancé_ , and it was his duty to care for her above all other things.

_Not that he’d been doing a good job of it today._

The woman first cut away the thick, emerald gown, threads snapped, and pearls rolled off the bed and clacked on the floor. Feeling momentary regret that the beautiful gown that had so effortlessly paired the two of them as a couple was ruined, Ciel picked up a pearl, rolling it between his two fingers.

The gown and underskirt were pulled off, thrown onto the floor in a heap of heavy fabric.

Then came the heavy, layered petticoat, which was quickly pulled off, leaving Elizabeth in her corset and chemise.

Ciel took the moment to blink. Both white garments were stained red. There were only hints of white at the very top and bottom of the chemise. Looking at the deep red stains, Ciel felt a burst of dread; there was too much.

There was a deep, still-oozing slash as Elizabeth’s waist, which was the source of much of the blood. However, there was a bright red burn on her upper arm from her earlier bullet wound, and several bruises littering her pale skin.

 _God, she looked so tiny_.

Ciel huffed, barely able to stop his tears from falling.

The woman clucked her tongue, an almost frightening sound to hear from the silent woman.

“What? What is it?” Ciel asked, fingers twitching nervously.

“She has broken ribs. I have to remove the corset so they won’t accidentally puncture a lung, but that would speed up the bleeding,” the woman said, leaning back on her heels and cocking her head as she stared at Elizabeth.

That… That wasn’t good. If the woman had stopped, it meant that she had no idea what to do, and if she had no idea what to do, then Ciel _definitely_ had no idea what to do. He wasn’t a _doctor._

_Why didn’t I just tell Elizabeth earlier?_

_Why didn’t I step in earlier?_

_If I hadn’t been so caught up in the charade, in making Elizabeth love me, maybe I could have-_

The doors swung open, creaking loudly, to reveal a smiling faced Paula.

She was wearing her soldier’s uniform, a bright red coat, covered in medals that Elizabeth had awarded her. There was something about the woman that never failed to make Ciel uncomfortable. The way she walked so smoothly, how she never seemed to be out of breath, how she always seemed to find every opportunity to smother Elizabeth in affection.

“Hello, Lord Phantomhive. Is my Lady here?” she questioned, walking into the room, heavy boots clicking against the floor.

“Yes. She’s injured… Gravely,” Ciel whispered.

Paula hummed, nodding as she looked at the undressed Captain, an exasperated look creeping up on her face as she leaned over Elizabeth.

“Oh dear. Broken ribs _and_ a lacerated kidney? She was rather cocky today, wasn’t she?”

Ciel blinked, uncomprehending. Lau’s woman slid off the bed, as if recognizing that it was best to be out of the maid’s way.

Paula gently pressed two fingers into the deep cut in Elizabeth’s side, cooing as she did so. “Hm. Ciel go heat up a knife, will you? And, you, go get me some witch hazel.”

Ciel nodded, pulling out a knife from his coat, and running to the fireplace, sticking the blade into the flames. The woman, bowed, before leaving the room, in search of supplies.

Elizabeth had been called the bird-boned soldier when she’d first came back to England, simply because of how slight she’d been compared to the other Knights. Ciel had never liked the nickname. It had made her sound far too delicate.

But today. Right now, he couldn’t help but feel the nickname was startlingly apt.

It took nearly a minute, only the sound of Paula’s humming to pass the agonizing seconds, before Ciel deemed the blade hot enough.

 _Please, Elizabeth. Please don’t leave me_.

Scrambling back towards Paula and Elizabeth, Ciel watched with wide eyes as the maid tore Elizabeth’s corset open.

_No, please, no._

“Stop! She’s going to bleed out!” Ciel shouted, desperately trying to hand the heated knife to Paula.

The maid brushed the knife away.

Paula didn’t even look at Earl as she threw the corset behind her, feeling along Elizabeth’s slim ribs.

“Thank you, dear, but we don’t need that anymore. I stopped the bleeding. We might tape her ribs later, but she’ll wake up soon,” she smiled at him, reaching out to pet his hair, only for Ciel to duck away, “There, there, my Lord. She will be just fine.”

Ciel suppressed a shiver as he looked down at Elizabeth, who was noticeably better, with a soft flush in her cheeks and deep, even breathing.

_Impossible._

A shiver ran down Ciel’s spine as he looked at the knife wound. It was a full two inches smaller and significantly shallower than it had been a moment ago. What had looked like a life threatening wound, now looked like a training accident.

_What-_

But Ciel didn’t even have a second to think about that, because right then, Elizabeth, Ciel’s fiancé’s pretty emerald eyes fluttered.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elizabeth wakes up.  
> They talk.

Elizabeth stood to leave, ducking her head in respect.

“Oh, Elizabeth, dear,” Queen Victoria called out, a conniving smile spreading across her lips.

Freezing in place, Captain Elizabeth immediately made eye contact with the Queen, hand instinctively going to the hilt of her sword. “Yes, Your Majesty?”

Laughing softly, Victoria waved a gentle hand, “Down, captain. I merely wanted to offer you an opportunity.”

Quickly straightening, Elizabeth nodded, militarism apparently clear in her movements, “I will do as you command, Your Majesty.”

Victoria sent her a look that clearly said _could you not_ ; the Queen sighed, sipping her tea. “It’s your choice, my dear. Please take it as such.”

Elizabeth nodded again, respectfully sitting back down at the tea table; she would hear out Victoria’s proposal and choose which option most benefitted the Queen. The medals hanging on the breast of Elizabeth’s dress coat, clinked and chimed as she sat down, reminding Elizabeth of a bell on a collar.

After all, she was nothing but the Queen’s pet, there for Victoria to order around.

“My guard dog and his successor are visiting me themselves in a short moment. Would you like to stay and meet them?” Victoria questioned.

The Queen’s dull eyes were glittering sharply with mischievousness. It was apparent Victoria was up to something and had a desired end goal in mind.

“The successor is about your age, very _suitable_.”

The words were coated with leading innuendo, full of implications, and Elizabeth suppressed a shiver. It was only her deep-rooted need to keep Victoria happy that kept Elizabeth from blanching. The idea of even _speaking_ to a possible suitor, of betraying her Ciel in that manner, made her stomach roil in anxiety.

“Your Majesty,” Elizabeth started, forcing her tone into something grateful and sweet, “I appreciate your concern very much, and I thank you kindly for the offer. However, not only do I believe your Guard Dog and I would work better unimpeded by the other, but I am also very, very besotted with my current fiancé.”

Victoria grinned. The glittering look still hadn’t left her eyes, instead, she was looking at Elizabeth as if the Captain was _amusing her_. As if Elizabeth was missing something very important, and it was hilarious.

“Are you certain? He’s a lovely young man, Elizabeth. You could simply be acquaintances if you aren't interested in a suitor?”

Elizabeth imagined a strong, powerful young man, dark eyes and fingers just as blood-stained as her own; he’d see the world just as Elizabeth did. He’d be just as able as her, capable of protecting Elizabeth from the world one moment and backing her against it the next moment. Someone that brutal must be capable of such dark, possessive emotions, wrapping Elizabeth up in the breed of obsessive love that she was capable of. They’d be a ruthless, unstoppable force, feared and revered across the European continent. And for a second, _Elizabeth liked it._

But, it was a brief fleeting feeling, squashed solidly by a reminder of a firm, straight smile. Glittering, intelligent sapphire eyes and a proud, noble posture. Rolling, lazy threats with only thin bird-boned limbs to back them up. Brief touches and whispered endearments. The small favors he gifted her to show her she meant the world. The freely given acceptance and the rare discouragements. A passionate drive to strive for the best, to surpass expectations. The delicate, chaste, sharpness that made her fiancé beautiful and Elizabeth felt revolted that she even considered the offer for a second.

_I’m terrible. I’m a horrible fiancée. How dare I betray Ciel this way?_

Elizabeth manipulated her frown into a smile, bobbing into a brief curtsy, “I’m deeply sorry, Your Majesty. I simply cannot stomach betraying my fiancé in such a way.”

“Pity,” Victoria pouted, amusement still visible in her eyes, “It would have been an interesting conversation. You’re dismissed, Captain.”

Elizabeth turned to leave, before turning back, wondering just _why_ Victoria had desired the meeting so badly, especially due to her strong support of she and Ciel’s relationship.

Because, the Queen knew something Elizabeth didn’t.

Because, the Queen _knew who the guard dog was._

_Because Ciel was a dog, Ciel is her dog,_

_cielisherdogcielisherdogcielisherdogcielisherdogcielisherdogcielisherdog_

Elizabeth woke up with a gasp, dull pain flaring down her side and up her arm, a tender ache in her chest, and a roaring headache pounding behind her eyes. Instinctively, she tried to curl away from the pain, only to sob as the throbbing in her head became worse.

_Paula is such a…_

“she’s… okay?”

Cool, trembling hands pressed against her temples, offering absolutely no relief from the pain.

“… alright… just adjusting.”

The voices seemed so far away but so loud, echoing in her ears between the beats of her heart. Blood rushed painfully to her head, making her eyes throb.

“…to _what…_ help her.”

 _Please,_ she wanted to beg, _help me, I can’t take it._

“…everything I could… couple minutes.”

There was a pause, a silence, and Elizabeth cried out at the thought of being left alone like this, blind and vulnerable.

Immediately, the hands were back at her temples, the soft voice closer than it was before.

“Shh… okay… know it hurts…  if you don’t tell… can you…” the voice cooed, breath softly fanning across Elizabeth’s burning cheeks.

Elizabeth opened her mouth to speak and explain her headache, only to have the movement spark her headache further, _fire burning in her head,_

_Her eyes were going to melt into puddles,_

 “Lizzie… _please…”_

_I’m going to die, I’m going to die, I’m going to die._

“You’re okay, I’m here. I’m so sorry, Elizabeth.”

Her face felt wet, and she couldn’t help but wonder if it was because her eyes were bleeding. _Please, have mercy, just kill me, I can’t take it._

_Paula please make it stop._

_Please._

Soft lips pressed against her temple, a lithe body huddling next to hers, hunching over her protectively, warmth seeped into Elizabeth’s side, and she just wanted to _die and soak up that warmth and-_

Suddenly, it was all gone.

The burning from her contract seal disappeared in a second, leaving Elizabeth wide awake and just a tad dizzy. Her body didn’t ache at all, as if she had never been injured in the first place. Next to her, Ciel was hunched over her with wide concerned eyes. His hair was disheveled and his fingers were twitchy, and Elizabeth had never found him more handsome.

“Are you o- okay?” she whispered. Her voice cracked in the middle, and she couldn’t help but despise the show of weakness.

“Am I okay?” Ciel scoffed with a wavering voice and wet eyes, “I’m fine. You’re the one who almost _died_.”

Something inside Elizabeth tore open at seeing Ciel’s eyes water. A couple of hours ago, she would have killed someone to see Ciel show such visible emotion towards her, but now, actually seeing it; Elizabeth wanted to retch. Her fiancé should never feel so upset, and no amount of validation Elizabeth felt was worth his tears.

She forced herself into a seated position, her body offering up dull aches and tugs but nothing sharp. Forcing a smile, Elizabeth reached out to stroke Ciel’s face, “I would never leave you, Ciel. You ordered me to stay, and I never disobey an order. Please, don’t cry.”

She brushed away the lone tear that slipped from his eyes, hating that drop of salt water with all her being.

“Don’t cry? Lizzie… I…” Ciel whispered, struggling for words. His breathing was fast, and could very easily tip into a panic attack, something that could be lethal with his asthma.

Elizabeth jerked Ciel closer, arranging his body half on top of hers with his head tucked into her neck. She wasn’t sure if it would help Ciel, but touching him always calmed her, so she hoped the opposite was also true. Rubbing a soft hand down his back, Elizabeth tried to keep a track of his breathing.

“Hush. Just breathe, alright? You can hear my heartbeat… I’m here. With you. We’re safe.”

After a brief full body shudder that had Elizabeth terrified, Ciel slowly melted; his tense muscles loosened, making him press heavily against her as he pressed his cold nose into the crux of her neck. They stayed like that a minute. Ciel taking comfort from Elizabeth’s heartbeat. Elizabeth taking comfort from Ciel’s weight. Both of them just trying their best to process what had happened.

“Do you…” Ciel swallowed, “want to break the engagement?”

Elizabeth blinked.

Her heart _broke_.

Logically, she knew this was fair; it was to be expected. Ciel’s parents arranged their engagement on the assumption that Elizabeth would be able to protect their delicate son, ensuring his life was as safe and happy as possible. The less stress on his mind, the longer his predicted life span. This incident could have literally _shed years_ from Ciel’s life.

She failed; she endangered the one thing she was supposed to die for. At the very least, she’d take her punishment like a soldier.

“I understand that I failed you, dear one. And if you want to find a more suitable fiancé, I will of cour-“

“ _No,_ ” Ciel spat, like the very idea was repellant. “No. Not now, not ever. You can’t leave me.”

The Lord Phantomhive pulled away from Elizabeth, sitting up straight with an iron rod posture and fire in his eyes. Whatever meekness and vulnerability had been on show were long gone, her Ciel was back and ready to set everything to his liking.

Elizabeth smiled at the sight.

“Then why were you suggesting we break the engagement? It can’t be because you have a suitor in mind for me?” she questioned, maybe trying to get a reaction out of him.

The thing was- Ciel was possessive. Not in a jealous way, or a passionate way, but an angry, spoiled way. His things were _his,_ and losing them meant losing, and Ciel refused to lose to anyone. Elizabeth was _his_ fiancée, and he’d accept nothing less. She was an asset and like _hell_ would he give her to anyone.

“I briefly considered giving you the option, considering the truth about me that’s come to light, but it was a mistake. You aren’t allowed to dissolve the engagement, Elizabeth. I do not care how repellant you find me or how much you despise my soon to be title-”

“ _Ciel.”_

“No. We can pretend this never happened. I’ll hide my pistol and keep being aloof and delicate, the way you like-“

“Ciel. Stop,” Elizabeth commanded.

Only Ciel could break her heart twice in just as many minutes.

_My darling boy. My strong, beautiful boy._

She took a deep breath, reaching out to comfortingly hold one of his hands.

“Neither one of us is going to break the engagement,” she stated firmly, “I promise. As for you being the Queen’s guard dog, did you really think I could be anything but proud? I don’t love you because you’re weak. I love you because you’re strong in spite of it. My Ciel rises to any challenge and the fact that you rose to this one? I adore you for it.”

Even though Ciel’s hands were trembling, he only gave her a stoic nod, “Good. I… I was always meant to inherit the title. My parents had faith, and I showed promise. In our relationship, I was the man, and I had full intentions of playing my part. But… When you came _back_ , you were so self-deprecating, so _sure_ that you failed to protect your family. I wanted- I wanted to give you that second chance, be something you could protect and care for. I hope you can understand why I did it; I’ve only ever strived for your happiness."

_He cares._

_He spent over three years upholding a ruse solely for my benefit._

_He… loves me._

Elizabeth’s eyes water, but she forced herself to remain in the moment, “Of course, I understand. Roles reversed, I would have done the exact same.”

“So?”

“We’re perfectly fine, Ciel.”

They stared at each other, matching smiles on their faces and love reflecting in their eyes.

“I hate to interrupt,” Paula grinned sharply from the corner of the room, “But we do need to talk business.”

Elizabeth turned towards Ciel with a smile, "Well, Mr. Guard Dog, would you be willing to help us?"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for the continued support of this story. I'm not opposed to writing sequels or doing requests, so let me know if there's something you'd like to see from this universe.


End file.
